


Recovery.

by prinxing (ranithepirate)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Celebrity Kris, Drama, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Huang Zi Tao | Z.Tao/Oh Sehun, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21791590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranithepirate/pseuds/prinxing
Summary: Some people are meant to be. Others just need a little push.
Relationships: Wu Yi Fan | Kris/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Recovery.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting all my EXO fics from tumblr onto Ao3.  
> This was my first ever EXO fic that wasn't a drabble, and I wrote this on September 15, 2013.

If anyone asked, they met through Sehun and Zitao.

Sehun was a fairly old student at Yixing’s dance school, but it had not been until recent years that they had become best friends. Zitao was a self-assured rookie at the fashion agency, and Yifan, as a senior model, had taken him under his wing. Sehun and Zitao had been in a passionate relationship for over a year by the time Yifan and Yixing had met, so their encounter was pretty much destined if you sat and thought about it long enough.

In all honestly, the whole thing started off as a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. Sehun had been staying late at a party celebrating Zitao’s first real photo shoot; he called Yixing around one in morning, pleading him to join in on the fun, using the excuse of being drunk and needing a ride home as a ruse because he knew that the older man was probably still at the dance school, attempting to perfect his already flawless dance steps that no one but his students would ever see.

His meticulous attitude was one of the many quirks of Zhang Yixing; he rehearsed as if he were the one preparing for a performance, as if it was _his_ scholarship that rested on every twist of his body, twirl of his hips. And Yixing’s hard work was commendable, never failing to show what kind of person he was―someone who gave his all and then some more, no matter the circumstances. Yet despite that, all Sehun wanted was for his best friend to live a little, constantly reminding the elder that _now_ was the precious time to be fickle and free because who knew what the future would hold.  
  
Reluctantly convinced, as Yixing often was with Sehun, he finally made an appearance at the party. The music was infectious to him, as it always was, and the thumping bass called him to the flashing neon dance floor. He was halfway there when he had accidentally bumped into Yifan―their first meeting―and, startled, the two of them exchanged quick _Sorry’s_ and _Are you alright?’s_. It was then that Yifan overheard Yixing mutter something in mandarin under his breath— _Wow, handsome_ —with which Yixing followed with a playful grin, eyes sparkling mischievously and an adorable dimple pressing into his right cheek.  
  
Yifan did not understand how it happened or why it did, but in that moment he knew he was goner. And it was not until months later that the elder finally admitted this to be the pivotal point of their relationship for him, explaining with flushed cheeks and a shy smile that this innocent meeting was what pulled his heartstrings from the beginning— _Love at first sight_ , he called it.  
  
Conversely, it would be a lie to say that Yifan did not also fall for the sinful way Yixing swirled his hips as he moved on the dance floor, spineless and unbelievably flexible, or how his velvety skin glistened tantalizingly with sweat, the teasing flashes of collarbone and chest revealed by the way his tank-top kept slipping off his shoulders was simply too much to handle. His dark, wavy hair stuck to the sides of his face and the long column of his pale throat, pearly white teeth digging into soft pink lips as he stared straight at Yifan with impish, hooded eyes.  
  
Long gone was the cute dimple, Yifan’s mouth dry as Yixing swayed over to where his feet remained glued next to the dance floor, the younger a little breathless as he pulled the taller man down by the collar of his shirt, whispering assertively into his ear, “ _Let’s get out of here._ ”  
  
Yixing had always had this self-confidence that no one really expected from someone who constantly looked so out of it, and it never failed to surprise the people around him when flashes of that confidence bled through. Yifan was no exception; all it took was that sexy smirk on Yixing’s lips, and suddenly a low groan found itself escaping the back of Yifan’s throat before his mouth was crashing against this beautiful stranger’s, lips parting as they dragged hot and wet against each other, their tongues tangling lewdly when they found a wall onto which he could press Yixing against.  
  
Neither was the least bit drunk but it sure as hell felt like it; even surrounded by the thumping music and the surplus of unknown faces, the two of them were alone in the throng of people. Yifan’s large hands grabbed hungrily at the hem of Yixing top, sliding underneath the loose, flimsy cloth and caressing the velvet skin of the shorter man’s sides. Yixing moaned in approval, slender arms wrapping around Yifan’s neck in response as he grinded their hips together shamelessly.  
  
Their impatience found them at Yifan’s apartment not even fifteen minutes later, Yixing naked and pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around Yifan’s waist as he thrust up into the dancer. They continued on the couch and then on the bed, and in all honesty it would have been a one-night stand, Yixing gone come morning, if they had not still been going at it even when the daylight began pouring through the curtains of Yifan’s bedroom. So instead they curled up into each other, strangers but not strictly, sharing languid kisses and shy smiles, as if Yifan had not just folded Yixing in half and fucked him six ways into next week in the course of only a few hours, as if they had not learned each other’s names for the first time through breathless sighs and needy gasps.  
  
And that was how they began, suddenly like an unstoppable whirlwind―three, long, beautiful years of a love that made it hard to even want think about anything else.  
  
It was only fitting that it would end much the same way, the two of them yelling their throats raw, Yifan red in the face from the shouting and Yixing looking utterly infuriated as they exchanged heated words, trying so hard to keep from hurting each other physically as much as they already had emotionally.  
  
“If you truly loved me like you say, you wouldn’t go!”  
  
“If _you_ truly loved me like _you_ say, then you would believe me!”  
  
Yixing looked away, fists clenched at his sides. “How can I believe what you say, Yifan?” he hisses, his voice cold and angry. Yifan had only seen him like this once before, just a few months ago when a scandal headlined _‘Kris spotted with possible new girlfriend in Rome?!’_ appeared in a news article that the younger man now kept hidden in his side table drawer as a constant reminder that it had actually happened, that it had not just been a terrible nightmare.  
  
The reality of this, however, was that nothing happened. Yifan had explained then that she was only a coworker and that they had gone out clubbing because she knew her way around the place. Nonetheless, the clarification did nothing to change the poisonous effect the false article had on their relationship, Yixing unconsciously pulling away gradually now that the very real fear of Yifan leaving him was hanging over his head. Yixing knew that he was in too deep, that he would never be able to recover from this relationship if the elder left him―that was for sure―and he needed to be prepared for anything.  
  
It did nothing but add to his uncertainties as he watched Yifan turn on his heel, the elder man infuriated as he slammed the door shut behind him and jogged to his car. He drove off as fast he could in order to put as much distance between them as possible, an honest attempt to cool down because Yixing was being impossible right now. Despite the fact that Yifan’s constant travels have incited arguments before, it had never been _this_ bad; Yixing had never been so vocal in protesting Yifan leaving for his job, especially these past few months with the model’s popularity now at an all-time high.  
  
But a photo shoot in Paris with that same coworker had done it.  
  
Yifan’s grip tightened on his steering wheel, knuckles going white the harder he squeezed. There was a small, delicate box in his pocket that suddenly was weighing heavily against his thigh, an almost looming presence that picked at the wounds in his heart. He had been putting off proposing for so long, months going in the blink of an eye while this damned box sat accusingly where it remained hidden inside the center console of his car. It was just his luck that when he finally plucked up the courage to pop the question that this would happen, this almost impossible to refuse job offer and Yixing demanding that he not go to Paris, at least not with that woman.  
  
The older man had been so flabbergasted at the fact that Yixing so much as even _considered_ the idea that Yifan would cheat on him that he forgot all about proposing, and the next thing either of them knew, they were both yelling and arguing like it would fix everything—but those things never really did anything for them, at least not the way soft kisses, apologies, and whispered words worked, how it kept them together, made them whole again.  
  
It seemed like an eternity when in reality it was only a few minutes later that Yifan’s cell phone rang as he parked into the neighborhood convenience store lot. Gut instinct told him it was Yixing, and one glance confirmed it. Hesitant, Yifan answered the call, slowly pressing the phone to his ear but not saying a word just yet, preparing to say something—what exactly that would be, he was not sure, but a lot of the solutions started with _I’m sorry_ and _I love you_. In spite of this, he did not even have a chance to say anything before the other man was already speaking.

“Let’s break up.”  
  
Suddenly the world seemed to come to a stop, Yifan’s fingers tightening their grip around his cell phone as his breath caught in his throat. Even with the static coming from the phone, Yixing’s calm voice was still so shaky on the other line, and he could hear the hesitation masked behind the sureness; Yifan knew him well, had always known him, and could read even the slightest changes in the younger man’s demeanor no matter what. However, as every second ticked by, it was harder and harder to differentiate what was real and what was a not. Everything they were was falling apart right before his eyes.  
  
The small box in his pocket was now crushing him alive.  
  
“What?” Yifan finally whispered back hoarsely, voice faint, still unable to believe what he was hearing. He and Yixing were going through a rough patch—anyone with two eyes and half a mind could tell that that was all it really was, a rough patch—but even with how things had been going south recently, he never expected a development as big as _this_. There had never been a moment in his life that Yifan had not thought about sharing with Yixing, both the good and the bad, from the sweet early morning kisses they exchanged when they woke, to thoughts of growing old together with a house of their own and perhaps some children.  
  
Breaking up was never on the itinerary from the very beginning, and now suddenly his other half was entertaining a thought Yifan had never even dared to breech.  
  
“I-It’s not working out, b-between us. It isn’t.” Even through the phone, Yixing sounded like he was convincing himself, and Yifan wanted to argue, wanted to yell and scream and beg Yixing that breaking up was not the answer and that they were meant to be, that he could never love anyone the way he loved him.  
  
But unfortunately, Yifan had always been a bit of a coward, if the box still weighing cripplingly in his pocket was anything to go by, and upon finding his throat too dry, all he managed to dumbly croak out was, “Okay.”  
  
The silence following was profound, this clearly not the reaction that Yixing had been expecting, and caught off guard, he stuttered back, “O-Okay?”  
  
They remained ghastly silent, not a sound coming from either of them as they continued to keep the phone pressed against their ears almost desperately, neither able hang up, still in shock of what had just transpired and hoping it would change. This could not really be happening, yet it was―it _had_. They were done. No more morning kisses. No more flirty text messages. No more surprise dates. No more whispering late into the night. No more leisurely evening sex. No more cute dimple just for Yifan to adore and poke, no more dark eyebrows for Yixing run his fingers over and giggle about―no more Yixing _and_ Yifan.  
  
No more _them_.  
  
Yifan’s phone battery chose that perfect opportunity to die on him and he cursed in four different languages when it lost life in his hands, taking every chance of recovering their relationship with it, any and all traces of hope now gone as he stared at the betraying mechanism that lay useless in his clutches. He rapidly plugged it into the car charger but by then it was too late; all was lost. The line was dead.  
  
Instantaneously, he could imagine Yixing staring down at his own phone incredulously, thinking of probably the worst ideas he could come up with now that he assumed Yifan hung up first.  
  
First on the list was probably that Yifan did not love him enough.  
  
Which was so completely untrue that it physically hurt Yifan just thinking about it, and there was no way he would stand for this misunderstanding—he did not know what came over him before, why his lips were sown shut like a dumbass—, so with a burst of confidence he turned the car around and sped back towards home, back to where he knew that his Yixing was alone in their apartment, probably crying his heart out—because Yifan already totally was, tears streaming hot down his cheeks and making it hard to see—and cursing their relationship when all either of them wanted to do was hold each other close and get back together.

_Let’s break up_.  
  
Even minutes later those three words still made Yixing feel sick.  
  
He had no idea what possessed him to say it, when everything he really wanted in life was Yifan. Yixing’s heart was fragile, yes, and he still did not like the fact that the older man would be going on another trip far away with that clingy model that draped her perfect body all over his boyfriend both on and off set, but at least he knew with some surety that Yifan was _his_. Even if it was getting harder and harder to believe that he was worth it, hard to believe that he was someone Yifan could be proud of showing off to others, that instead of lying like he always did at interviews and stating that he was single, the older man would simply beam and say that he was taken, that he loved Yixing.  
  
Yixing could not breathe, he was crying so hard.  
  
In the car, Yifan got another call while his phone was still charging, and he was surprised to see that it was his manager. Now held up at a slow traffic signal, fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel as he waited for the green light with a glare, Yifan answered the call.  
  
“Someone leaked them,” the manager was saying as soon as Yifan picked up. “Pictures of you and Yixing are all over the internet―the media is going nuts!” His manager had sent him a link and as Yifan scrolled through the images, he realized with a misdirected sense of hopefulness that something like this could not have had better timing―this could be his one and only chance to fix everything and he was not about to lose it, not this time. The headline of the pictures read _‘Model Wu Kris caught with boyfriend in public!’_ and Kris, biting his lip nervously, told his manager, “I want you to confirm this as soon as possible. Tell them that Zhang Yixing is my boyfriend of three years and that―” he stutters at the next part, the uneasiness mixed with anticipation and the still-burning confidence nearly making him numb, “―we’re e-engaged to be married.”  
  
With those words out in the open, the weight in his pocket lightened significantly. Yifan had done it, finally standing up and taking charge instead of running away. If his manager noted the stutter in his voice, he chose to ignore it. “Okay,” the elder man replied before hanging up, and now Yifan’s heart is pounding so hard that he could feel it pulsing in his throat. All that was left was actually _asking_ his boyfriend—well, _ex_ -boyfriend now, but Kris would rather not think about that—to marry him, and if Yixing said no then Yifan would take the fall, but he was more than willing to risk it if meant getting back together.  
  
Quickly he forwarded the link to Yixing and prayed for the best as he texted: _I need to tell you something._  
  
Yixing stared at the link with eyes wide as saucers, wiping away the tears streaking down his cheeks as he hesitantly selected it. What popped up on his screen had him blushing bright pink, memories flooding in immediately; he _knew_ that they should have gone into their apartment yesterday, that he really should not have listened to Yifan and stayed in the car, should have been more cautious because _holy shit_ that was _him_ that Yifan was pressing into the backseat as they made out, Yixing’s legs wrapped around his waist. The pictures only got more and more explicit as he went, zoomed in on their faces through the window until the glass was too foggy from the inside to see. Even with all their important bits obscured, it was quite clear what they were doing in the backseat of Yifan’s car and that made Yixing’s blush deepen to a near scarlet.  
  
As he continued to scroll down, pictures of them in various places came next, Yifan with him at the mall, at the café down the street, holding hands, one of them sneaking a kiss just outside of their apartment but mostly obscured by a passing car. To be honest, they could all be passed off as simply friendship if they argued about it hard enough, but the pictures of them going at in the car was definitely the point of no return.  
  
He did not know what this meant for them exactly as he heard the car in question pull into the apartment parking lot, watching Yifan approach the building from his vantage point at the window. Yixing’s heart thudded loudly in his chest, and he found himself rushing to bathroom to clean up even though it had not even been twenty minutes since they last saw each other, wanting to look good in hopes that maybe… well, Yixing was not sure _what_ he wanted to happen really, but he was hoping to at least fix this mess he created.  
  
Yifan’s knock was hesitant, unsure of himself even as he held the key in his hand. Yixing had yet to reply to his text, and the fact of the matter still stood that they had just broken up, and that it had been _Yifan_ who had stormed out of their apartment. After the third knock, the elder lost hope in his ex-boyfriend ever opening the door, but not even a second later a rather breathless Yixing was flinging the door open, dark hair slightly mussed like he had run there. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were rimmed with red, and Yifan had never seen someone look so beautiful before in his life, breath stolen from his lungs at the thought that he could lose this if he did not do _something_ right now.  
  
Those thoughts became Yifan’s driving force, his large hands moving to cup Yixing’s face, fingers cold against the soft skin of the younger man’s cheeks. No words were exchanged, Yixing stepping back and allowing Yifan inside like he always did, the door slamming shut for the second time that day but this time for a different reason, the elder nearly shoving Yixing into the door as he crushed their lips together in an urgent kiss, bodies pressed so close that Yixing’s toes barely touched the floor. His desperate whimper as his hands struggled for purchase at the front of Yifan’s coat to pull the other man impossibly closer, licking and biting his way into the elder’s mouth, had the taller man reeling.  
  
When they finally parted, both of them gasping for air, Yifan pressed their foreheads together so they would not have to meet eyes. Even still, he could feel Yixing’s probing gaze on him. “Yifan…” Yixing murmured, cautious even as his grip tightened on the elder’s jacket. “W-What are you doing?”  
  
Yifan was silent for a few beats and Yixing was almost afraid of his answer before he realized that the older man’s face was beet red, his ears burning. “I’m here,” Yifan began slowly, expression a mix of awkwardness and insecurity, “to beg you to take me back.”  
  
Now it was Yixing’s turn to blush, cheeks tinting pink as his eyes widened in surprise. “O-Oh… y-you are?” The elder nodded, pressing forward again to claim Yixing’s mouth, and this time the kiss was slow and achingly sweet, their tongue’s sliding against each other languidly until the younger man was trembling. Yixing suddenly pulled back, reddened lips slick with spit and beginning to swell from the previous kisses, effectively startling the other man. “B-But what if I say no?” Yixing demands unexpectedly, eyebrows knitting together as he stared up at Yifan.  
  
After a brief pause, Yifan finds himself asking, “Do you love me?”  
  
Yixing’s body went rigid at the question, fingers curling even tighter in the elder’s jacket. “Of course,” he replied immediately, without even an ounce of hesitation. “You know I do. Do you love me?”  
  
“Of course,” the elder responds, and Yixing’s pleased smile makes his heart skip in his chest. Satisfied and feeling the warmth in his chest spread to his toes, Yifan peppers the younger’s face with kisses, taking his time on the nose, cheeks, eyelids, lips, and leaving no part of Yixing’s face untouched before whispering back, “so stay mine.”  
  
“I’ll think about it,” Yixing teases with a smile playing on his lips, dimple making an appearance and melting Yifan’s heart. His expression grows somber after a few seconds, asking quietly, “But what will you do about the press? Everyone knows now and I know how much you try to keep out of these sort of things…”  
  
“Well,” Yifan starts, suddenly blushing again and Yixing watches curiously as the elder reaches into his own pocket and pulls out a small blue box. “I know I’m cheating by asking you now,” he admits shyly, stepping back enough so that they are no longer pressed right up against each other. Yixing has a feeling that he knows what is about to happen because tears are already forcing their way out as his eyes process the box in Yifan’s hand, hands pressing to his face in disbelief.  
  
“Yifan―” he gasps, speechless as he tears his gaze from the box and looks up at older man, “you..?”  
  
The other man is smiling now, still shy but with more confidence than before. “I’ve had this thing forever, but I’ve been chickening out for months now and honestly I can’t stand this anymore, not being certain if I can have you permanently or not―” Yifan does not even get a chance to get down on one knee like he had planned because Yixing is already throwing his arms around his neck, crashing their lips together.  
  
“Ask me now,” the younger murmurs against the corner of Yifan’s mouth, “stop waiting and ask me already because you can have me, all of me.”  
  
Yifan is grinning widely now, hands coming to rest on Yixing’s waist. “Zhang Yixing, will you ma―”  
  
Yixing cuts Yifan off again with an impatient squeal of delight, kissing him again, this time much deeper. Before the elder even knows what is going on, Yixing is already grabbing Yifan’s wrist and dragging him to the bedroom, yanking off his own clothes on the way there and making Yifan’s mouth dry as he watches his boyfriend—fiancé?―wiggle out of his jeans. Yifan’s hands are on his slim waist in an instant, thumbing at the soft skin above the waistband of his boxers. Yixing sighs contentedly, yanking off Yifan’s coat and shirt when they finally reach their bedroom, their bed still in the same messy state they had left it in that morning when they did not have time to clean up.  
  
Yifan only half expects it when Yixing shoves him onto his back on the bed, crawling over him while licking his lips, eyes glittering mischievously, and suddenly it is just like the first time again, Yixing rolling his hips provocatively and Yifan trying his best to hold himself together because he can barely keep up when Yixing gets like this, like he wants to devour the other man. Their kisses become more teeth and tongue than actual lip contact, hands touching and sliding against sensitive places. Both of them are moaning desperately when their erections drag over each other, the control switching between the two as they rut against each other frantically, trying to get as high up as possible.  
  
“You better not regret this,” Yixing breathes out unexpectedly, barely able to speak clearly with how fast they were moving. “You’re mine now―you can’t take it back anymore.”  
  
Yifan chuckles breathlessly, dragging out a ragged moan from the younger man when his hands slide down to the curve of Yixing’s ass and pulls him closer. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Later, Sehun calls to yell at Yixing for not telling him about the engagement. _“What kind of a best friend are you? I’m practically the reason you guys got together in the first place!”_ Yixing can hear Zitao’s whining in the background, wailing about how his beloved Yifan-ge does not love him enough. Because of this, Yixing is only a little mad when he finds out that Yifan had already announced that they were engaged.  
  
“How could you tell your manager to say that we were engaged before even asking me first?” he huffs, lips forming into a pout as he glares at Yifan. “I could have said no!”  
  
“But you didn’t,” Yifan points out, gently brushing away the sweat-matted bangs from the shorter man’s eyes. “You said you loved me and then you said yes.” Yifan’s grin is a little too gummy for his own good and Yixing kind of wants to punch him in the face because he honestly looked too happy for someone he almost broke up with, but instead Yixing opts to flash him a coy smile, cute dimple pressing into his right cheek.  
  
Fingering the shining silver band around his ring finger, he replies cheekily, “Yeah, you’re right.”


End file.
